Very long overdue Blog

Two weekends ago I was in Bristol and I came upon a right bunch of nasty wee fuckers. You know the kind…the people who do anything to piss you off. Firstly I got off the plane and walked into the taxi office. It was mobbed but I asked for a cab to the city centre. The pinched face bitch behind the counter waved at the crowd in her office as if that was some indication to the waiting time. Like she couldn’t say “We are busy if you don’t mind waiting”.

I asked how much a cab to the city centre was and she replied “£24” and then she added “do you want to share a cab?”
Now I am all for sharing cabs and reducing my carbon footprint so I said “Yes, how much will that be?”

“£18” she answered. I looked at her and said “So, two people pay £18 each to share a cab but one person pays £24?”

She nodded and said “That’s just how it is”

“Well, let me tell you how it is for me, I will take one cab and then invite someone here to get in the cab with me to the city centre and ask for them for £12 in the cab” I snapped.

She asked me to leave the cab office. I dragged my ass and my luggage out, and headed for the city bus stop at the airport exit. There I met ass pain number two.

“No one better give me a twenty pound note as I don’t have change, I am warning you” the tiny faced arse bus driver shouted from his bus to the queue.

I only had a twenty pound note. I climbed on the bus and handed it to him. He shouted “I don’t have change, didn’t you hear my warning?”

“Well, here is an idea, why don’t you carry loads of change on you as you work with the public and you deal with cash, I am not getting off, so go get change” I sat down on the bus and made him get off and leave. Everyone behind me had twenty pound notes and the airport shop wouldn’t change their cash.
The wee fuckwit moaned and moaned but had to provide change for us all….as that’s his fucking JOB.

The good news is…the sun shone so brightly in Bristol. It was awesome and I love that city. Despite the eerie fact that most of the city was built on slavery money you can’t help but admire the architecture and the wonderful city buildings.

I had to leave Bristol on Saturday night straight after my comedy gigs and get driven to London in the wee small hours. That all went fine, I arrived at the Groucho Club in Soho at 2am and checked into my bedroom. I was staying at The Groucho for two nights and was doing a corporate gig the next day; I then get news that the gig was cancelled, so I looked forward to having two days off in London.

The bad news was that NO-ONE in the world can sleep in Soho as the noise is fucking unbearable. At 4am a truck drove up and then glass was tipped in and the crashing noise made me almost have a stroke!
Then the homeless people and drunks decided to have a big fight about a kebab they had found right under my window. You have no idea how long the kebab debate went on for, then a dog attacked them (I like to think I induced that to happen) and I presume the dog got the kebab and the drunks started screaming and ran off. Then two men of indiscernible race bickered on the special argument spot that was right under my window. It may be a special place that people come to fight, they all know where the spot is and wait their turn to scream their debate, despite the ungodly hours.

They left and two cats started hissing and screeching at each other, I would like to think they stood in a queue and waited for the ‘Argument Spot’ to become free so they could hiss loudly. I lay there awake the whole night. At 9am it went quiet for about an hour then the street became busy again. I never slept a wink.

As if the day could not get any worse, I got up and went to visit a mate, I got off a bus at Wandsworth Bridge and a woman threw herself to her death from the high flats and died in front of me.

A huddle of wee kids came round on bikes and one shouted “That white boy Steve’s mum has just killed herself” The teenagers stared and then one flipped open her phone, music blared out and some of them danced.

None of them seemed too affected by what they saw.

Why? Was it a weekly occurrence?

Seeing someone die in front of you is really awful. It made everything in my life seem fucking stupid and insignificant. Was this woman depressed? Was she pushed? Did she finally have too much shit in her life that she very publicly killed decided to end it all?

All of these thoughts rattled through my head until I reached my mates door and just hugged her for ages. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. Then I felt stupid for being so affected by it, it wasn’t me who died, I am ok, why am I so fucked up?

Life goes on – kids dance to music, buses keep running, people get their dinner ready, traffic speeds past and some white boy called Steve will be without a mother.


Last weekend I was in Leeds doing my comedy thing, it was all cool and I stayed at the new KSpace Apartments which were lovely and awesome. I really love staying in apartments as opposed to hotels. Husband and I end up fighting when we are stuck in one room.

Then on Sunday I was MC at The Scottish Comedian of The Year award in Glasgow. I just been driven home from Leeds, managed to get a shower and some slap on and went straight down the Glasgow Fruit market where the show was being held. My feet were sore and I was quite tired and fucking hell it was going to be a long long night.

All the comics were lovely but the winner is Scott Agnew, he is a bright young comic who features in ‘Make Me a Lady’ which is a big hit on YOUTUBE filmed by my daughter Ashley and features me in it as well. Just copy paste ‘Make Me a lady’ into YOUTUBE search and check him out.

I am so sorry this is a late blog, but I was so bloody knackered and busy.

Animals that bite back

There was an article on the news about some looney Spaniards that chase an angry bull and yes…you guessed it- the wee bull stamped on someone and badly injured them. Well, here’s the deal folks, keep back from angry agitated animals.

My favourite all time animals biting back had to be the white tiger in Las Vegas that clawed the skull off that scary blonde homosexual guy of Ziegfeld and Roy fame. I am not sure which one of the glittery frocked guys copped the injury, but it was totally fucking well deserved. That’s what you get for making a big jaggy toothed tiger dance to ABBA everyday. Here’s a newsflash guys, tigers are not meant to be living in a hotel in Nevada.

I once saw a man outside a supermarket in Glasgow with an eagle tethered to his wrist, the poor bird was wearing a leather gimp mask, and the freaky man was doing some wild bird display. When ‘Eagle Man’ lifted the bird up it pecked his face. I giggled and ran off.

Folk who go into a bears cave and then poke a stick at it deserve all they get. I know poor Steve Irwin did so much for ecology and wild life, but for fuck sake mate, what did you expect when you spent years jumping on a crocodiles back and swimming underwater near dangerous killer type mammals and fish-type floaty biters. Shit will happen.

I was taught as a small child that if you see a strange dog or cat, do not under any circumstances approach the damn thing. There was a reason for that rule and I bear the scars to this day. I once ran near a dog in the blistering summer heat of 1973 and the dog savaged my hand. It was stressed and I annoyed it deeply by screeching “Hello wee black dog” at the top of my squeaky voice.

I still can’t understand people who let their kids poke fingers through the cage of a parrot in a pet shop or the nutters who let kids lean dangerously over the pens of wild animals at a zoo. If the animals chomp at a kid, then parents should be jailed for neglect of their own children and the animal should get party thrown for it.

I think I have ranted enough, so there is today’s lesson from Aunty Janey- Don’t annoy animals- especially if they have the capabilities of biting your face off.

Fights and flurry’s

September 11th was a really bad day; husband and I had a monumental fight. I left home in flip flops and it rained. To make matters worse Ashley got involved and screamed at us both (quite rightly). I stalked the streets of Glasgow (well, I flip and flopped the streets to be correct) and muttered angry words of hatred.

Why is it when you have a big marital fight and run out of the house, you meet fucking loads of people you know but really don’t want to chat with?
I met my accountant, a TV producer and radio host. ‘Great!’ I thought to myself, if I had organised to meet these people it would never happen, but give me teary eyes and soaking wet flip flops and there we go….meeting accomplished.

My hair was in a top knot (which I forgot about until I spotted myself in a shop window) and I was wearing a pyjama top under my jumper and yes…yet again the fucking flip flops in the rain. Did I mention that already?

Husband made me insane to the point where if I had had a gun I would have shot the fucker. I ended up walking about for ages then spotted him in the street as well. So we then had a big shouty fight in the street. People stopped and stared. Stupid people asked if we were ok and other people pointed at the crazy woman in flip flops and funny hair. Husband merely muttered and stomped about angrily. I got so exhausted we headed home and slept like pretzels all curled up, twisted and angry.

There are no answers; we both need a personality transplant or a divorce.